Consequences of Boys' Night Out
by dreamwriter32
Summary: Ginny talks Harry into going out with the guys for a night out. Harry eventually agrees, but when he returns home in the middle of the night with a stomachache, Ginny takes it upon herself to nurse him back to health. In Ginny's POV.


Consequences of Boys' Night Out

"I don't know, Gin…" Harry looked uncertainly at me from across the counter in the kitchen. I was fixing some dinner for us in our flat. Harry had proposed to me a month ago, and I, of course, had said yes. I was just getting settled into life at his flat now, although it wasn't all too difficult considering the sheer amount of time I'd spent here in the past. My mother wasn't too keen on the idea, to be sure, but she reluctantly agreed.

So now, with my mother's acceptance of our current housing situation, Harry and I stood in the kitchen, discussing the possibility of a "boys' night out" with a few of his former dormmates and some Aurors. The event was planned for tomorrow night, a Friday, so they could go out, get drunk, and sleep all day Saturday, which is what happened the nights after Harry and Ron went out for drinks to celebrate their respective engagements. This would probably be crazier, though, as there were going to be seven of them – eight if I could convince Harry to go, too.

"Come on," I said, slicing up tomatoes. "You need a night out with the guys. I could call Luna and Hermione and we could do a girls' night in. We've talked about doing it before. Besides, Ron and Neville need their drinking buddy." I smirked at him from across the counter as he looked at me with his most uncertain look.

"You know, maybe I _should_ go out with guys," Harry conceded, crossing the kitchen and helping to cut up some carrots. "It does sound like fun." He still sounded and looked a bit uncertain, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. Since he defeated Voldemort three years ago, he's tried to limit his outings in the wizarding world. These days he spent a lot of time working for the Ministry and visiting my parents at the Burrow, and he only ever really spent time in Diagon Alley to stock up on necessities (as quickly as humanly possible) or to spend some time with George.

"I'm glad," I said with a smile, cutting up some onions.

"You don't look so glad," said Harry with a smirk. "Come on now, Gin, one night without me isn't something to _cry_ over."

I threw my half-sliced onions in his face.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The week went by slowly as the girls and I planned our night in. Hermione decided to rent a chick-flick called _Clueless_ and mentioned something about a movie called _Titanic_. I told her that I'd watched it once with some of the girls on the Quidditch team and I didn't want to revisit that tear-jerker again, thank you very much! Luna decided to bring a movie called _When Harry Met Sally_. I'd seen it before (also with the Harpies) but agreed to it because Hermione had never seen it and I knew she wouldn't give me the hard time my teammates had given me. "Who's Sally? Do I smell jealousy?" one particular girl had playfully taunted me.

I'd dumped my popcorn on her.

Friday night eventually came and Harry went out with the guys. I was glad he decided to do so – he didn't get out much except to go to work, my games, or to visit my family. They decided to go to a Muggle pub in London, as Neville and Ron had little interaction with Muggle London.

"Should be interesting," Harry had said.

Hermione, Luna and I snacked on little cucumber sandwiches and crisps with fruit and chocolate sauce. I smiled, remembering the time that Harry and I fed each other strawberries dipped in chocolate. _That_ was interesting – how Harry ended up with chocolate in his _hair_ was beyond me.

The movies went by fairly quickly with the three of us munching on popcorn and occasionally commenting – I was just quick with the snarky, cheeky remarks, Luna had a _lot_ of questions, and Hermione was always the one to answer said questions, most of which were typical of Luna and left Hermione rather irritable until I'd say something that would have her in stitches.

After the movies, Hermione filled us in on the wedding preparations, telling us all about going dress shopping next week and asking us to join her. Her mother and mine would be coming along as well. I had managed to talk my mother – who was all too eager to plan her only daughter's wedding – into taking a more Muggle approach to my own dress. Harry and I were thinking June and dress robes would be too hot compared to the silky-smooth fabrics of Muggle gowns. Hermione and I felt a little bad talking about all this to Luna, who'd never had a boyfriend before in her life, but her "Lunaness" quickly eased our worries. She was perfectly fine with this.

I went on to share what little planning I'd done on Harry's and my wedding – disregarding any plans my mother may have made. We'd decided to be wed at the Burrow and had started looking into flowers and decorations. The Burrow was home for both of us and it was the only place we could think of to be bond – hopefully forever.

It was funny that Hermione and I would be getting married within a month of each other. To honor her late grandparents, she was getting married on their anniversary, which I thought was very sweet. Ron joked that maybe we should go on our honeymoons together, but Harry had already begun planning ours and we were going somewhere far from Ron and Hermione's.

Luna was the first to go home, as she was leaving with her father in the morning to hunt some creature whose name I couldn't be bothered to memorize. Hermione left not long after, and I sat in comfort until I realized with a glance at the clock that it was well past midnight and Harry wasn't home. I shrugged this off and went to take a shower and get ready for bed.

I laid down in bed and before I knew, I had drifted off to sleep, happy that Harry was out having fun with the guys. Little did I know he wasn't having quite as much fun as I'd thought.

I wasn't asleep for very long before I heard the front door open and footsteps in the hallway. I turned over as Harry lumbered into our bedroom. Slowly and gingerly, he changed out of his clothes and into his pajamas and all but fell into bed with a groan.

"You okay, Harry?" I asked, leaning over and turning on the bedside lamp. I found him laying on his back with a hand pressed into his stomach. As I moved to be beside him, he turned on his side and snuggled close to me. I reached across him and started rubbing his back. He groaned again and continued to press his stomach.

"I don't feel good."

I felt his forehead, which was a little warm and sweaty. He leaned into my touch, and concern mounted within me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pushing the fringe off his forehead and running my fingers through his hair.

"Stomachache," he grunted. I frowned – Harry never flat-out told me or anyone what was wrong or if he was sick unless he was under extreme distress. Then again, he never really had "minor" stomach problems, so to speak.

I watched as he closed his eyes and winced, a cramp seizing his belly.

"_Ah!_" he breathed, turning back onto his back and clutching his stomach. I pried his hands off and pulled up his Holyhead Harpies tee, baring his belly. I placed my hand on it somewhat firmly, having learned that this approach was much more effective than rubbing his stomach through his shirt.

Harry hissed and pressed down on my hand. "I wanna throw u-u-up..."

It was in these moments that I wondered if I'd frown so much in concern that I'd end up with wrinkles by thirty. Harry never whined, not even when he was sick, so hearing this voice worried me greatly. I slowly rolled my hand from heel to palm to fingers and back in an attempt to comfort him and soothe his cranky belly.

"It's okay. Shhh… It's okay. It'll get better," I kept repeating, even if I wasn't entirely sure myself. "Did you have fun?" I eventually asked, hoping to keep his mind off his stomachache, even for less than a minute.

"Yeah," Harry said wearily. "We had a good time. We ate a lot and drank a lot… If I have a hangover in the morning on top of…whatever this is…I might have to kill your brother."

"Duly noted," I chuckled, wondering how well Hermione was taking to a possibly drunk Ron. Poor Ron… At least Harry didn't have to worry about any sort of negative reaction from me. I smiled at the thought of Hermione hiding their supply of hangover potion in the morning as I continued to roll my hand against my fiancé's suddenly rumbly stomach. My smile melted off my face and Harry winced. Before I could blink he was in the bathroom, retching into the toilet.

I followed and knelt beside him, rubbing his back. Once he was done emptying his stomach, he laid his head down on the toilet seat with a groan.

"Ready to go back to bed?" I asked in concern. Harry nodded and allowed me to half-carry him back to bed, where he laid down and curled into a ball, facing away from me. I laid down as well and pressed myself against his back, reaching around his waist. I snaked my hand under his shirt and started massaging his aching stomach again. Against my rolling hand I felt it gurgle, and before long Harry had escaped to the bathroom again. By the way he moved I knew he wasn't going in there to throw up.

Twenty minutes passed before I heard the toilet flush and the running of water. When another moment passed and he didn't come out, I got up and knocked on the door. There was no response, so I entered.

Harry was now sat on the floor in front of the toilet. I walked over and knelt beside him, rubbing his back.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Harry looked at me with a grimace. Apparently the cramps were getting worse. "I thought I was gonna throw up," he whimpered.

"Do you feel any better?" I asked.

Harry had always been pale. Sure, he'd tanned a bit after Quidditch matches and in the summer months of school, but he'd always been paler than most other guys.

Right now, though, he was white as a sheet.

"A little," Harry replied after some time, although I wondered just how much truth there was in that statement. He had his arms wrapped around his stomach and looked a little green. He turned to lie down on the floor of the bathroom, and I imagined the cool tile felt good. He wrapped his arms tighter around his stomach with a little gasp, and all I could manage was a word or two of what seemed like empty words of comfort before he shot back up and began vomiting again. I felt helpless as he continued to throw up in the toilet until he was reduced to dry heaves, clutching his stomach harder than before and whimpering between gags. My heart sank – dry heaving made his stomach hurt more.

He leaned back into me when he was done, nuzzling his head into my neck. I sat back up against the wall, gently bringing Harry with me, and wrapped my arms around his stomach. Kneading his abdomen, I noticed his usually flat and muscular stomach was bloated and distended.

"How does that feel?" I asked after awhile.

"Good," Harry muttered. "Ron, Neville and I really pigged out. I knew you'd take care of me when I got home."

"I will _always_ take care of you," I assured him. "Whether you have a stomachache or the stomach flu or a cold or you're just lonely, I will _always_ take care of you."

I could see his eyes getting droopy so I brought him back into the bedroom and helped him change into a fresh pair of pajamas before we went back to bed. I settled myself in beside him, pressed against his back, and wrapped around his waist, gently massaging his stomach.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Harry took my hand and pressed hard against his stomach. I heard his low moan and knew this was worse than before.

"Does your stomach hurt again?"

He nodded. "Mm-hmm." He rolled onto his back, allowing me easier access to his crampy belly.

"Where does it hurt?" I asked, wanting nothing more than to take his pain away. He took my hand and placed it lower on his belly. I started gently rubbing and he relaxed for a minute before pressing his hand firmly against mine.

Now using both hands, I started massaging Harry's abdomen deeply. I felt gas pockets under my hand and I gently pressed in with my fingers, kneading his stomach as I went. I heard him moan after awhile.

"Am I hurting you?" I asked, worried. I didn't want to cause him even more pain than he was already in.

"No, not at all," he assured me. "It feels good. It feels _really_ good." Harry looked up at me as I continued my massage, feeling the muscles relax under my hand. Before too long his stomach was back to its normal, flat self. Eventually he fell asleep to the slow rhythm of my massage.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Harry felt better in the morning, but still he was not at one-hundred percent. I could tell that he was taking it easy and giving his stomach a small break, only eating toast and bananas for breakfast and managing to keep down some soup at lunch.

We spent the day at home, relaxing on the couch. I owled Mum and told her that we wouldn't be coming to lunch because Harry didn't feel well. She sent back a sealed cask of ginger tea.

Later that day I sat on the couch with Harry across my lap, rubbing his stomach. I could tell that he was feeling better by the way he was acting. He had fallen asleep after an hour of massaging his belly.

"Gin," I heard him say. I looked down to find his green eyes peeking at me through droopy eyes.

"What do you need, babe?"

"Could you move a little lower?"

I moved lower over his navel and started massaging his stomach. Harry placed his hand over mine and moved it lower.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, worried.

"Not now, no."

I kept gently rubbing his belly.

"Thanks for taking care of me, Gin."

"No problem." I leaned over and kissed him, muttering against his lips, "I will always take care of you."

When Harry and I had started dating, I'd found out about his life with the Dursleys. Not long after that Harry had come down with the stomach flu. I'd spent the day at his bedside, giving him water and potions, rubbing his back as he threw up, rubbing his stomach to help with the cramps, and overall just comforting him in any way I could.

After that Harry would only tell me if he was "deathly" ill. He'd eventually learned how much I cared for him and then he'd started telling me whenever he was sick.

"I know," he said, jolting me back to the present with a weak little grin. "I never was cared for when I was sick as a child. I wasn't allowed to be sick. But then I came to Hogwarts and…everything changed. Bear with me, Gin, and don't get mad at me if I don't always tell you I'm sick."

"I know." I kissed his head. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

A few weeks later, Harry and the guys went out again. Somehow, in spite of the previous circumstances, Harry was much less reluctant, but once again he came home with a stomachache, and once again I spent the night nursing his stomach. I soon learned that a stomachache was part of the consequences of Boys' Night Out.


End file.
